


'cause your presence still lingers here, and it won't leave me alone

by orphan_account



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: And Carmilla is too, Christmas with the Karnstein-Morgans, F/F, General warning for Lilita, In which I am overcome with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 04:13:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3105239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winter Solstice has always been dark, but Christmas has always been special to them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'cause your presence still lingers here, and it won't leave me alone

**Author's Note:**

> There are two separate timelines, one of which is split into two events. Be wary as it jumps back and forth.

She walked through the open doors of the mansion, not really paying attention to where she was going. She had been here often enough to know the way by heart, to know where and when and how to get where she needed to go. It was not something she was particularly fond of admitting but it was what it was and she had seemingly little choice in the matter when she thought about it.

Every year, it was the same thing. An ornately written letter would make its way to her, always requesting her presence, never demanding. She was never fooled, not for a moment. It was an order she never failed to obey, a silent command to come to Maman even when she could not bring herself to want it.

Still, she could not help but to exact her petty revenge, her feet dragging across the meticulously cleaned marble floors. Maman detested tardiness, was always one for punctuality, but she knew that she would not be punished. She never was and it only served to spur her on, this knowledge, to encourage her to drag it out for as long as she could.

Very few could say the same. In this she was alone, would always be alone. There was never a question of where Maman’s favour lay, only a question of why. Even in her long imprisonment Maman had been kind, had not killed her as she had thought she would. It had been a mercy of sorts, one she could never quite figure out despite her centuries of knowledge, of knowing who and what Maman was.

She chuckled at the thought, a grim smile playing across her face. Maman would never reveal her motives but always, she could always feel it. That twisted love twined around her like a snake, sinister, poisonous, ready to take her life should it fancy such a concept.

When had it become like this, like a monstrous, wretched thing that she could not escape? Maman had once compared Laura to a cockroach, a wretched, crawling thing, as if she were a mere pest beneath her feet, but what did that make her, them?

Was she nothing more than a plaything, waiting to be discarded when she could no longer provide amusement? Was she a tool, so close to the end of her own use that she could not resist the pull of Maman’s intentions, forcing her hand into acquiescence the longer she allowed herself to be used?

She shook her head of the thoughts, her gait moving from the languid slinking grace of a cat to something more refined, something more akin to the girl she was before she had died that first death. It was not something she did often, was not a state of existence she particularly favoured, but it was a reminder, a recollection of a time when she did not worry about such things.

That time was long past but it still eased her mind, helped her to relax back into something she could be once more. Still, everything must eventually come to an end and such memories would always lead back to the earliest recollections of her time with Maman.

* * *

She laughed as Maman grasped her hand lightly and spun her around, music playing in the background as they danced. The Hall of Mirrors was beautiful, something she had longed to see since Papa had first shown her paintings of it and now, now she was here.

“Mother, this…this is amazing.”

Maman said nothing, simply smiling as they parted. She graced her with one of her own before turning around as if to take in everything with a single look. It was marvellous, the perfect gift for the perfect Christmas.

Flitting back to Maman, she kissed her cheek lightly, her smile widening as she hugged the woman close. Everything was just breath-taking and being here with the woman who had given her everything after death, it was a dream come true.

“Careful, my darling,” Maman whispered, her tone amused as she held her close, guided her towards the exit, “we’ve yet to dine with the king. I wouldn’t want you to wear yourself out.”

“How could I when I’m here with you? This…it’s…I can’t even begin to thank you for it all.”

“Think nothing of it, ma chère. For you, I would do anything and everything that I can.”

She believed that, knew it to be true though she could not say how she came to this conclusion. It was just something that was, like the sun rising every morning or the way Maman’s touch on her skin could make her feel so vibrant, so happy.

She never thought about it for more than a moment. She did not need to. Maman was the only constant in her life and she was quite happy with that, content to not need anything else so long as she had her.

Maman took her through the halls of the palace, a steady hand on her elbow as they walked, speaking of things of little consequence. It was nice, wonderful even, this feeling of belonging. This was her place, where she was meant to be, and she would not disappoint Maman, could not do that.

She had been given much with little asked of her in return. She could do this, could make her proud where others had inevitably failed. After all, she was the one to whom Maman had given immense power, the one she had favoured above the rest.

The king was waiting for them, his table laden with the richest of foods and finest of drinks. She had long forgotten his name, had forgotten who he was. What did mortals matter, after all, when she danced beneath the ever watchful gaze of eternity?

Her smile dimmed as she looked at this example of pompous, feigned superiority. Their lust for power, their gluttony, it was always on show. She was disgusted by it, repulsed, but she forced herself to sit down anyway. She had Maman, after all, and Maman would never abandon her, would never leave her side just as she herself would never betray her.

* * *

Carmilla shrunk beneath Maman’s gaze, flinching as she could feel it on her skin, a thick enveloping thing that threatened to take her soul once more. She was no longer hers, was no longer the creature that had once blindly followed her to the limits of death and back, and yet she still belonged to her.

Maman gestured for her to come closer, to sit next to her on the settee and she obeyed, hands clasped in her lap, ankles crossed. She could never forget this, never forget the manners that had been cultivated in her since childhood.

“Sweet girl,” Maman rasped, her hair falling limply into her eyes as she stared at her. “You are home now.”

Styria was her home but this mansion, this degraded thing on its borders, was no longer the place where her heart lay. Still, she allowed Maman to embrace her, to hold her when all she wanted to do was run. It was the only thing she could do when faced with this pathetic wraith before her.

Gone was the tall, domineering woman who had brought her back to life, her frame nothing more than bone and steel as she held her close. Her eyes were clouded, her flesh colder than Carmilla could remember.

Everything about her was diminished, lost to whatever the Old One had taken out of her. She would not have believed it, would not have thought it possible but ever since that night, ever since she was bound to this godforsaken place, she had wondered, always wondered.

“I’m no longer the mother you need.”

“You never were.”

There was only truth to her words, truth running through her veins as she turned away from her. Maman had never been her mother, had never truly been anything more than Maman. It was the one thing that she knew to be true, the one thing she could count on through deception, lies, loss.

She had been through so much, had lost so much because of this woman and yet she still found herself coming back over and over again. There was something wrong with her, something so deeply wrong that it made her return here, made her return to the only person other than Laura with the ability to break her.

Maman’s fingers combed through her hair slowly and she leaned back, allowed the touch. Just as the connection shared between them had pulled at her, had forced her into the wood and towards Maman, it stilled her now.

She allowed herself to relax as Maman’s hand moved from her hair to her back, curling around her waist as she pulled her closer, only ever closer. Maman could not harm her now, not the way she was, not the way she would be.

She frowned at the thought, her eyes flittering across her face as she looked down at her. Maman had never been weak, never been vulnerable. To see her like this, to witness the true fall of this woman, it pained her beyond words, beyond though and action.

It was not supposed to be like this, never this.

* * *

She fell onto the forest floor with a contented sigh, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. In the moonlight the skin shone red and glittering, the blood fresh, a rare delicacy in this part of Austria.

Maman was close behind her, her own meal finally finished as she came to lie next to her. An arm around her waist pulled her close and she snuggled into the other woman’s side.

“In the light of the moon, you are beautiful,” Maman said, eyes staring heavenward. “You are my darling girl and you always will be.”

“Forever,” she murmured, inhaling the scent of sandalwood, smoke, blood. “I’m yours forever, I swear it.”

Maman hummed her agreement, no more, no less than that. It was all the acknowledgement she would get from her, the only sign that she had accepted her words.

It did not matter, not now. That was all she needed, all she wanted from her. Everything else, she would give, would allow Maman to take even at the cost of the life she had been given.

It was the way of the world, the way it always would be. Nothing could change that, could persuade her otherwise, not when she knew that Maman would always love her, would always cherish her. It was, after all, in Maman’s nature.

She was soft where others saw cruelty, beautiful where some saw monstrosity. She was everything that she hoped to be, everything that she wanted and it was nigh impossible to imagine a life, a world in which she was not with her in some way.

“Maman?”

“Hmm?”

“I won’t ever leave your side.”

Maman turned at her words, a strange light in her eyes, an emotion she could not read. Suddenly, she felt the happiness slowly ebbing out of her as the atmosphere shifted, changed. It was as if her words had released something, created something indefinable as she watched Maman’s fingers move up her collarbone, her throat, her cheek.

“You are mine. You will always be mine, Mircalla. This night, this Saturnalia, I want to claim you as I have never done before. Will you allow it? Will ou let me take from you that which no one else has yet to call their own?”

She leaned into Maman’s touch, her eyes slowly sliding shut as her own hand rose to tangle in her hair, the other resting against her throat. She wanted this, knew that she should want this. Part of her was hesitant, not wanting to cross that line, but she could not help herself.

Maman leaned down, their lips touching for the briefest of moments before she kissed her again, deep, hard, every sensation coursing through her body. She wanted more, so much more as she pressed herself closer to the woman, wanted so much to just be hers as she should be.

Maman was her everything, her world now when she had lost all else. She could not let go of that, not now.

* * *

“What do you need from me tonight?”

She was standing by the window now, her eyes searching the stars for something she could never find. She felt small beneath their watchful gaze, insignificant in the grander scheme but she did not allow herself to focus on that, only on the woman behind her.

Maman was standing now, her arms around her stomach as she stood near the fireplace. Her stance was no longer rigid, straight, but Carmilla could care less. As much as she hated her, she did not care for this version of Maman, did not want to see her like this.

She moved swiftly, falling to her knees before her. She should not be here, should not even be doing this when Laura was waiting for her, waiting for her to come back to her. Only, she could not deny her, not even now after all this time, after all the pain she had caused.

“Tell me,” she said, licking her lips as she took Maman’s hands into hers. “Tell me what you need. Please, Maman.”

This, this was not like her, was not the person she was, but she could not help but be Mircalla again, not when Maman was looking at her like that, not when she had given everything up, had sacrificed everything for Laura.

Laura was supposed to be all that mattered, was supposed to be the only one who meant something to her, but she could not give this up. She could not stop herself from loving Maman the way she did. It was sick, poisonous, but it was all she had known for so long and even after Ell, even after the betrayal, the exile and the pain, she could not stop herself from feeling this way.

“You are no child of mine,” Maman whispered, pulling her hand away to place it in her hair. “You never were a daughter. You were so much more than that.”

She nodded, acknowledging the faith in those words. Maman had said them often enough, had repeated them to her in the dead of night when passions flared and flesh met flesh.

“However, you can do nothing for me, not now when my soul is tied to the darkest parts of chaos now.”

She stood then, watching her.

“I will heal in time and then, only then, will you see me again Mircalla.”

It was as much of a dismissal as Maman was willing to give on this night. She should have taken it immediately but something stopped her. Maybe it was the spirit of this damned season or maybe she was growing too soft under Laura’s influence.

Whatever it was, she found herself standing and embracing Maman one last time. Burying her face in her neck, she inhaled her scent, warm, familiar, comforting. This was it, the last time she would be here with this woman.

Stepping back, her arms fell away. It was time to go, to return to her love.

“Merry Christmas Mother.”


End file.
